


Unravel

by DarkAngelBK201



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Decapitation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelBK201/pseuds/DarkAngelBK201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood stains many things… Sheets, clothes, hair, skin… Ja’far knows this far too well, as all assassins do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravel

**Author's Note:**

> OH GOD MAKING THESE TAGS MADE ME REALIZE JUST HOW MATURE THIS FIC IS! LIKE WOW! The entire opening is smut, just as a warning, but I implore you to trust me here even if it looks far too self-indulgent at first. (also be nice too. I'm still new at this whole "smut writing" thing.) But torture. Now torture I'm good at. Hehe
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if Sham Lash is actually still around anymore, but for the purposes of this fic, they are. 
> 
> ...My summaries are always so short...

Sin smirked up at pretty, young woman straddling his waist, his hands gravitating towards the creamy thighs pressed against his hips. Her hands clasped around his, halting his meandering journey. A seductive smile danced across her face, her dark eyes gleaming with lust. Long blond hair tumbled in thick waves down her back, shimmering gently in the candlelight. She was the epitome of radiance, the goddess of desire. And he had done well to inform her of such observations. That’s how he managed to pull her into bed with him, though she put up little fight. Leaning over him, that grin only sharpened. “Oh no you don’t, King Sinbad,” Katarina purred, her grip tightening around his hands.

Her walls clamped down around him as she moved, a sudden, almost blinding wave of pleasure nearly making him miss what she was doing. Within moments, his arms were pulled up over his head, wrists secured to the headboard by leather bindings, the ones that normally tied his hair back if he had any guess. His hands were stacked, one over the other, the fingers of his back hand slipping through the wooden bars and brushed against the hilt of his sword, which had been slung there since their entry. Tugging experimentally at his bindings, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “I thought this might make things more interesting.” Her words were breathy with pleasure, her hips rocking forward to meet his own movements. “I’ll take control for now, King Sinbad.” Her full lips curved into a smile, accenting the slight narrowing of her eyes in a way that was entirely alluring.

Oh God, she was feisty.

He was so turned on right now.

And that didn’t have (much) to do with the fact that she had pinned him. His golden eyes, glazed with lust, dropped down to the set of nearly perfect breasts bouncing with their movements, perky nipples dark against the soft ivory skin. A patch of red surrounded one nub, a mark left by him in their earlier ministrations. Oh, how he wanted to touch them, feel them squish and mold to his touch. Biting his lip, a low groan rumbled up from his chest, his hips jerking forward violently. His length was throbbing inside of her, those textured walls rubbing at his sensitive skin. Being trapped like this, he kind of liked it. More than he would ever care to admit.

Bracing her hands on his chest, Katarina leaned forward to capture his lips, her fingers toying with the taut muscles of his abdomen. Her tongue darted in the moment his mouth opened, her hips bouncing up and down on his cock. Saliva wetting his lips, he returned her kiss with just as much ferocity. She pulled away, panting heavily. Her expression was pinched in pleasure, her toes curling on the mattress. Sin could feel her tightening around his throbbing member, his hands clenching into fists above his head. She jerked upright, her spine curving into a graceful arc. Her fingernails dug into his skin, her eyes shut.

His pace became quick and forceful, impaling her on his greedy length with a speed she couldn’t hope to match. But she tried, her hips practically trembling with desperation. Their bodies slapped loudly in the room, their lovemaking accented with piercing moans and cries. Her lip slipped out from between her teeth, her mouth falling open to accommodate her gasps of pleasure. A hand came up to grope at her own breast, her thin fingers pinching and rolling the rosy nipple. Sin groaned just looking at it, wanting to desperately do that himself. His hands strained at his bonds, the leather digging a groove into his wrists. The pain only intensified his pleasure, the sensation travelling right down into his groin.

She hit her end first, his thick cock brushing at just the right place inside her. Her head thrown back in ravished pleasure, a high, nearly keening, cry erupted from her lips. Her fingers pulled harshly at her breast, her entire body tensing at the strength of her orgasm. She clenched tightly around him, making it nearly impossible to continue pushing in and out of her. Trickles of juices seeped out from under her, dripping down his inner thighs.

He was so close. So damned close. Gasping in desperation, he slammed into her, the head of his cock pressing into what was probably her womb. His eyes clenched shut, the warmth surrounding him nearly too much for him to handle in such a frenzied state. It was her breathy cry of his name that pushed him off of the edge, his hips jerking forward to bury himself deeply within her as he finally reached his end. He moaned loudly, releasing a thick stream of his seed within her.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was their panting as they tried to catch their breath. Sin’s head dropped back onto the mattress, a sweaty cheek resting against his bicep. That had been…amazing, mind-blowing. She trembled above him, her hand now splayed limply on his chest. But he didn’t bother opening his eyes. He just needed to rest…for a few seconds. So lost in the afterglow, he failed to notice Katarina reaching behind herself to pull something from the clothes draped over the end of the bed.

A sharp, radiating pain slicing through his abdomen drew him rather forcefully from his pleasured daze, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch the girl he’d been fucking bring her knife up to her lips, its edges gleaming with his scarlet blood. A manic grin stretched across her features, her thighs clenching tighter around his hips in order to keep him in place. A deep laceration split open his stomach, crimson welling over the wound and running in individual streams down the lines that his muscles wove over his abdomen.

The worst part was that this was kinda turning him on.

He knew he should be a little scared because a) he couldn’t move, b) he was unarmed, and c) she looked pretty fucking psychotic. But she also looked really fucking sexy with that crazy gleam in her eyes and – _whoa, did she just lick his blood_ \- he really just couldn’t help himself. He also knew that she could feel his arousal, his member still buried deep inside her. So despite the throbbing pain beginning to inch its way into his consciousness, he trained his best smirk on her. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were into this kind of stuff? We could have started with that,” he drawled, trying to keep his voice low and sultry.

Her eyes, which had darkened to the likeness of coal, narrowed, her grip tightening around the stained knife. For a moment, she looked a little bewildered that he even say that, but the expression vanished almost as it appeared. The smile dropped from her lips, a sharp scowl replacing it. Her arm flashed down, the blade digging deeply into the meaty flesh of his bicep. He choked back his cry, the burning agony flaring up his arm. “I’m not quite sure you understand what’s happening here, King Sinbad,” she snarled, her voice deepening from that girlish squeal that she’d been adopting up until now.

“What, no poison?” he managed, a hitch of pain weaseling into his voice. A thin smile slipped over her face. Blood pooled around the knife still embedded in his arm, trickling over the curve of his arm and onto the white sheets below.

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it… But I thought that perhaps it might be a little more entertaining to play with you a bit before finishing you off.” She twisted her weapon, listening to the satisfying squelch as flesh tore beneath the thin metal. Crimson spatters spurted from the wound, splashing onto her pale face and up her arm. Sin gasped, his eyes squeezing shut. Finally, she slowly, painstakingly, removed the knife, blood gushing from the now open wound. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Your Majesty, to see you writhing in excruciating agony beneath me. And now that I’m finally witnessing it, I’m wondering how I should commemorate this…”

“By leaving, perhaps?” he offered weakly, gritting his teeth at the feeling of warm blood pouring over his skin. She rolled her eyes, poising the tip of the knife over his heart. It had been worth a shot anyway.

“I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, Sinbad. Why would I just walk away because you asked nicely? Plus, I’m getting paid handsomely for this job and the lay wasn’t even that bad.” The blade dug into the flesh it was hovering over, piercing the skin but not deep enough to harm anything vital. She dragged the weapon over his chest, the skin splitting neatly to accommodate the movement. The metal scraped across bone as it travelled, the resulting pain nearly intolerable. Sin bit down hard on his lip, refusing to let even a minor wince pass. He would not give her that satisfaction.

“Oh, so you liked it?” He rolled his hips experimentally, pressing himself deeper inside her. Her expression flattened in disbelief, lifting herself up onto her knees. He slipped out of her, his cock now flopping uselessly on his pelvis.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I did all of the work, you just laid there uselessly.” Well there went that plan… The once white sheet under him was slowly becoming saturated with his blood, the crimson stains stretching out from his prone form. The amount he was losing was becoming worrisome, his vision beginning to blur and his thoughts growing hazy. But at least she’d moved her weight off of him. He could move now. His sword was still hanging behind him, the scabbard resting against his fingertips. If he could just… Clenching his jaw, he pushed aside the pain and moved to swing his leg up to catch her in the back. But before he could even so much as connect, her weapon slashed, sinking into the muscles of his calf. He choked back a scream as the blade withdrew, his leg collapsing back against the bedspread. The tip pricked at his forehead, tiny beads of scarlet blood welling over the sharp metal. He froze, staring up into her serious dark eyes. “I wouldn’t try it, your majesty. Just because I moved does not mean that I’m any less alert. You’re not nearly as sly as you think you are.” At that, she moved the knife down, its edge diving into the soft flesh of his cheek. Katarina drew the blade across his face, drawing a line in blood from cheek to cheek.

“Why don’t you just finish this already?” he spat, a metallic tang on his tongue.

“And miss out on all of this fun?” She laughed, moving her knife away from his face. “I don’t think so! I’ve always enjoyed playing with my prey before finishing them off, and you are just too delicious to not play with…” Her tongue darted out to sweep across her lips, a hungry look entering her eyes. Fear began to thrash within him, his mind just realizing how dire the situation truly was. If he died like this, Ja’far was going to bring him back just to kill him again. She ran the wickedly sharp edge of her weapon along his side, just barely cutting into it. He shuddered at the sensation, his vision fading out of focus momentarily. “Oh no, Sinbad. You can’t slip away from me just yet.” As if to accent her words, the knife stabbed deeply into the flesh just above his hips, finally dragging a pained cry from his lips. “Music to my ears, my king.” Her words were giddy and he was only just noticing the way her voice mocked his title.

What a fool he had been…

Her dark eyes danced above him, crimson blood spattered across her dainty features and fair hair, but in his daze, he replaced her with someone else entirely. After all, this was the life that Sin had saved  _him_  from. And those eyes closely resembled those of his chief advisor, despite being framed by a ring of black makeup. “Ja’far…” he wheezed, the name slipping from his lips before he could stop it. She raised an eyebrow at him, yanking the knife from his side. A gray fog was beginning to eclipse over his sight, his heavy, rasping breathing becoming shallower by the second. His eyelids were beginning to slip down, acutely aware of his heart struggling to beat within his chest.

“SIN!” a familiar voice cried, flashing silver shooting across his failing eyesight. The woman straddling him jerked, a pained gasp slipping from her lips. A thin red wire was wrapped around her throat, the knife digging into to her bare shoulder to anchor the weapon. With one tug, her weight vanished from him, a loud thud echoing through the room a moment later. But he was really too far gone to care.

Ja’far’s grip tightened around the wire clutched in his hand, pulling it taut around the girl’s windpipe. She choked, her hands clawing at the weapon, the bloodied knife clattering to the floor beside her. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his tone icy. Her eyes, as dark as his own, shot open, taking up her weapon to slice at the wires. “Don’t bother. My weapon is specially made to be impervious to all but the sharpest weapons.” But the wires weren’t what she was aiming for. Using the tip of her blade, she dug the serrated knife from her shoulder, unraveling the red wire from around her throat.

She stood, her injured arm hanging uselessly at her side. Blood trickled in thick streams over her shoulder and down the appendage, dripping off her fingers to spatter onto the tile below. Her weapon was clutched in her other hand, her knuckles white around the hilt. Ja’far quickly recalled his knife, not bothering to recoil the wires that now hung loosely from his wrist. A dark scowl crossed his features, his eyes just barely catching a glimpse of his fallen king behind her. He was running out of time.

“What do I think I’m doing?” she repeated, a wide, slightly off-hinged grin splitting her face. “Isn’t it obvious?! I’m here to kill your king, a task that you very rudely interrupted! Though I think it’s already too late! The useless king is finished!” His eyes darkened, pupils narrowing. The knives in his hands glowed faintly, responding to the surge of fury that suddenly raged within him. Behind the girl, a sigil shone on Sin’s sword, fading almost as it came into existence. Cackles erupted from the woman, the sound grating on every one of Ja’far’s nerves.

She silenced suddenly, her eyes widening at the thin cut that suddenly stretched across her cheek. A loud thunk signified the knife embedding in the wall behind her, the scarlet wire pressed against her face along the injury. “Shut up,” he snarled, his eyes blazing as he glared at her. She stared in shock at what she thought was a parliamentary official, too stunned to even notice the slight tingle of electricity numb her face. “Do not disrespect Sin. Not in front of me.” The skin between his eyebrows trembled in fury, his lips practically colorless.

“Who are you?” she demanded, pointing her knife at him. A thin smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, lifting his hands up in preparation for an attack.

“I always emphasize the importance of research in successful assassination but apparently your master was negligent in informing you of such. Such a shame. Sham Lash was more successful when I was at its head.” Her weapon dipped in shock, her mouth dropping open.

“H-how did you…?” His grin widened, those snake-like eyes continuing to stare her down.

“How did I know? Only one assassin organization would dare attack King Sinbad, the one that I spurned years ago, though it seems you’ve forgotten all about me. Perhaps I should count that as a blessing.”

“You-You’re…” Ja’far huffed, his scowl wiping the grin from his face. He didn’t have time for this.

“Ja’far. Lord Sinbad’s most trusted advisor,” he supplied. “And the former head of that organization that you’re a member of.”

“Why would you leave Sham Lash for  _him_? He’s nothing but a useless king. He was, for all of his talk, so easy to bring down.” Ja’far’s hand flicked out, his free weapon flying out. The red wire wound itself around her throat once more, the knife at its head coming to a sudden stop in the wall. With another motion, his other wire was similarly twisted. Stretching out both of his arms, he pulled, the ropes digging deeply into the skin of his wrists and arms. The assassin gurgled, her knife falling from her hand once more as she flailed. Her fingers scraped grooves into her neck, desperately trying to get purchase on the strands encircling her throat.

“I warned you,” Ja’far spat, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as his fingers curled tighter around the red wires. “Never insult Sin in front of me.” A sudden wind gusted through the room through the open window, extinguishing the flickering candles and plunging the room in darkness. The shadows darkened the lines of Ja’far’s countenance, proving to only make his expression more menacing. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a deep scowl slashing across his face. “Household Vessel: Bararaq Sei.”

White sparks of electricity enveloped his weapons, stretching from the twin blades embedded in the wall to the red wires twisting around the woman’s neck. Her eyes impossibly wide, she stiffened, the sharp jolts of power shooting through her. “Now die,” he whispered, his voice cold. He yanked hard on the wires twirled around his palms, watching those around her throat dig deeply into the flesh. Her eyes bulged, fear beginning to enter her expression. He only pulled harder.

_Snap._

Blood spurted from her neck, the crimson liquid splashing against Ja’far. Her head fell from her shoulders, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. The body collapsed soon after, blood gushing from the neck in heavy bursts. Disgust crossed his face at the warmth dripping from his face, his robes sticking against his skin. Glaring down at the assassin, he spat at her slack face, forever frozen in fear. But then he remembered:  _Sin_.

His hands dropping the wires, he rushed to Sin’s side, eyes quickly raking across the man’s form to assess the damage. It was bad, really bad. And there was so much blood. Panic fluttered within his chest, his hands surging forward to grab at the sheet draped over the edge of the bed. “Sin,” he called, ignoring the terrified shake to his arms as he quickly attempted to wrap the thin covering around the worst of the injures. Crimson blood began to flower up through the cloth almost instantly, staining his fingers with its essence as he pressed his hands against the cloth. “SIN!” The king’s head had fallen limply to the side, dark purple bangs shielding his face from view. Bright blood clung to the thick strands of hair, gluing it to his features. He didn’t stir, even to the advisor’s frantic calls.

Abandoning the sheet in his panic, he grabbed Sin’s cheeks, fingers accidentally diving into the deep slashes that crossed the man’s face. Rolling his king’s head up to face him, Ja’far’s heart nearly froze at the dazed golden eyes that stared back at him. “Sin!” Oh, God. There was just so much blood. And Sin was so pale. “Answer me, you insufferable idiot!” Tears burned at his eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. Sin blinked sluggishly, the slightest bit of recognition entering his glazed eyes.

“Ja’far…” he slurred, his voice barely audible. His eyelids drooped, eyes struggling to focus on the hazy form of Ja’far hovering over him. The chief general felt a relieved grin slip across his face, his heart thudding once more in his chest. He exhaled, his hands going lax around his king’s injured cheeks.

“Oh thank God,” he whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Sin. “Hold on, Sin. I’m going to get you help.” Even as the words left his throat, Sin’s eyes began to drift shut, the dazed gold soon hidden under the pale lids. Fear surging in him, he tapped lightly at his king’s cheeks, tears finally escaping his eyes to drip down his blood-drenched features. “Sin! Sin, stay with me! NO!”

And that was the last thing that Sinbad remembered of that night.

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far scrubbed hard at his skin, hands submerged in the warmed water he had requested from the palace servants. The tub now was tinted pink, though the crevices of his palms were still caked with blood. It stubbornly clung to the base of his fingernails and stained the space under the nail, unlikely to be washed away with just one good scrub. His face had already been rinsed clean, though speckled spots of the congealing liquid still splashed across his features and his silver hair. His outer robes and keffiyeh had been discarded, pooled on the floor by his feet. The white undershirt he wore was still wet, tacky blood clinging to his skin when he moved.

He’d nearly forgotten how hard it was to clean blood off of himself.

Jaw clenched, he reached for the towel by the basin, pointedly ignoring the mirror placed in front of him. He knew what he would see. Onyx eyes were still shadowed and hard with raw fury, traced by the deep exhaustion lines that were indented into the skin under them. Those assholes… They’d come so very close… Still damp despite being dried by the now splotchy cloth, his hands clenched, fingernails digging into his palms. His weapons were sitting nearby on another towel, drying from the thorough cleaning he’d administered before he’d even gone about washing himself. He itched to rewind the devices around his arms, feel the rub of the wires against the callouses. But now was not the time.

The door creaked open, a large man entering quietly. Ja’far didn’t bother turning to his friend, still fighting with the murderous rage that blazed hotly within him. He slipped out of his white shirt, letting it fall to the floor without a single glance. Hinahoho stood behind him in silence, concerned eyes studying the state his friend was in. After several moments of quiet, he spoke. “What do you want done with your stained clothes?” he rumbled, his voice soft. Ja’far’s shoulders tensed, the scars crossing them bared to the candlelight.

“Burn them,” was the terse response. Hinahoho sighed, recognizing the anxious tone for what it was. It’d been a very long time since he’d heard it. The chief general was on unsteady ground and it was liable to collapse at any moment. He could detect the light tremble to the man’s body, could feel the pure anger and hatred rolling off of him in waves. “I’ll order replacements in the morning.”

“Ja’far, are you alright?” Still as stiff as a board, Ja’far turned to face his fellow general, his face blank. His pupils remained narrow, the effects of his anger still keeping him in his semi-assimilated state. But there was the beginnings of an idea sparking in his gaze.

“Has anybody taken care of the body yet?” Hinahoho blinked, the skin between his eyebrows crumpling together in concern. The change of subject answered his question better than any response and that fact worried him.

“Not yet. But I’ll call a team in immediately to dispose of it.” Ja’far waved him off, a scowl beginning to crease his lips. Turning away once more, he rummaged through his drawers.

“Bring the head to me,” he ordered distractedly, pulling a crisp white shirt from within his dresser. In another movement, he retrieved a ripped roll of bandages out from the same area. He threw both onto his bed, moving to grab at his weapons to rewind them around his arms. Hinahoho was silent, watching the man expertly coil the wires over his appendages. Once the shirt had been tugged over his head, Ja’far unfurled the roll of bandages, inspecting their worn appearance.

“And what do you plan on doing with the head, if I may?” Those snake-like eyes were sharp under the silver fringe, gleaming with determination.

“I have something I need to take care of.”

**MLMMLM**

Unceremoniously kicking open the door, Ja’far strode into the main hall of Sham Lash’s current headquarters, an object swathed in dark cloth cradled under his arm. He had initially objected to the assassin’s guild continued existence when the news first reached him, but he’d finally caved under Sinbad’s gentle persuasion, begrudgingly allowing the assassins to remain so long as they didn’t touch the newly created nation. After all, it wouldn’t do to jump at every threat they came across as it would make them more vulnerable. It had also helped that the little hideaway was a good day by boat, which minimized risks quite a bit. But they’d crossed a line and he wasn’t about to leave them unpunished for such an act. So clad in an outfit similar to what he’d worn in his younger years, complete with the thin layer of bandages wrapped around his mouth and nose, he’d broken in.

The current master, a graying man dressed in elaborate robes, flinched at the sudden noise, staring with startled eyes at the approaching chief general, hands flying towards the knives hidden in his sleeves. Flicking out with his free hand, one of Ja’far’s blades pinned the man’s sleeve to the back of the plush chair, halting any more movements. This was who they’d chosen for their new master? The man could barely defend himself. “Wh-who are you?” the master stuttered, wide eyes staring down his attacker.

“Ja’far of Sindria,” Ja’far sneered, his voice practically dripping with venom. The master squirmed under his glare, cold and intimidating over the bandages hiding his expression. His hand remained outstretched, the red wire pulled taut between his fingers.

“I-I thought you were just a parliamentary official.” His scowl deepened, grip tightening around his weapon.

“I think I should be offended that Sham Lash forgot about me so quickly. It’s only been a little over a decade. But I haven’t forgotten. Not at all.” He paused, glowering at the man sitting in front of him. Launching forward, he flipped himself neatly and landed on the master’s chair, both feet firmly planted on the armrests. The now loose wire was tightened with a quick tug, Ja’far’s other weapon now poised threateningly over the man’s throat. The master could only stare with wide, frightened eyes at the man hunched over him, swallowing harshly as a line of sweat trickled down from his forehead. “I really want to kill you right now. You have no idea just how difficult it is to stay my hand.” His voice was a low hiss, bloodlust rolling from him in heavy waves.

“So why don’t you just do it then? Prove to me that you’re an assassin!” The demand was feeble at best, a mere tactic to try and force Ja’far’s feet from under him. The former assassin only glowered at the man below him, his pupils narrowing further even as his eyes darkened in anger.

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll only be so willing to remove your thoughtless head from your shoulders. But I’m only here to deliver a warning this time. If you or yours tries to even think about attacking Lord Sinbad again, I will not hesitate to eradicate each and every one of you until none of you scum remain, starting with you.” Retracting the knife pinning the master, he threw the object in his arm in the same motion. It collided heavily with the man’s chest before tumbling into his lap, the cloth beginning to slip down. Ja’far stepped down off the throne, both weapons clutched tightly in his hands. His glare remained just as sharp, a deep scowl creasing the bandages encasing it. 

The man, eyes still wide, ripped off the sturdy wrappings, breath catching in his throat. Katerina’s head rocked on his knees, eyes rolling limply up into the back of her head and her jaw slack. Blood stained her lips, drawing a line to her chin in a flaking path. His head snapping back up to demand answers, the master was surprised to find the hall empty. Ja’far had vanished, leaving not a trace of himself behind.

Just like an assassin should.

**MLMMLM**

Sinbad arose from consciousness slowly, a dull, but insistent, ache dragging him rudely from his slumber. Stiff bandages wrapped tightly around his body, their soft touch soothing at the burning pain thrashing within him. They must have been charmed by Yam, who always kept a stash handy in case of injury. But for her to have used them on him, he must have been seriously wounded. He couldn’t quite remember what happened, his last memory a blur of movement and panicked onyx eyes. There was a soft sigh, something squeezing lightly at his hand.

Suppressing a low groan, Sin’s eyes drifted open, blinking hazily at the ceiling before his vision sharpened into focus. The ache intensified when he shifted experimentally, a grimace pulling at the wounds crossing his face. Someone snuffled quietly, inaudible mumbling drifting off into a quiet huff. Rolling his head painfully to the side, Sin smiled at the sight of his trusted advisor fast asleep in a chair by his bed, head cushioned on the mattress by his curled arms. One hand clutched at Sin’s, his fingers twitching slightly in his slumber. His mouth was lax, his nose crinkling at the silver hair brushing gently across it. The freckles that speckled his cheeks only completed the image.

That’s when Sin noticed them, the bandages draped loosely over Ja’far’s shoulders. Their familiar appearance stirred worry deep within his heart, his hand tightening around the smaller one. What had happened when he was unconscious? What had driven the younger man to such lengths? He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer. Studying Ja’far more closely, he noted the blood that was still spattered across his fair skin, caked into his fingernail beds and smeared across his free palm. It mingled with those light freckles he loved so much, stained the messy silver stands of hair that fell into his face. Sin could even smell it on him, a metallic bite to the air. He never enjoyed the image of his advisor covered in blood.

 And Ja’far looked utterly exhausted, dark bags hanging heavily under his closed eyes.

So Sin was content to let him rest, at least for a little while longer. After all, Ja’far was so damn, dare he say it, adorable when he was asleep and it would practically be a sin to disrupt such a sight. He would demand answers later, when his advisor had gotten the rest he appeared to so desperately require. Letting his eyes drift shut, he felt a smile tugging at his lips. It would likely be a while until Ja’far woke. If he was lucky, that is. He wouldn’t mind getting a little more rest in the meantime.

The hand in his squeezed suddenly, but lightly. “I know you’re awake, Sin,” Ja’far murmured, his voice laced with sleep. Sinbad’s eyes shot open, his gaze locking on his general instantly. Dulled onyx irises shone faintly through slit eyelids, relief relaxing his features the moment his eyes met the glimmering gold of his king.

“I wasn’t trying to pretend I wasn’t,” Sin argued, a lazy grin slipping across his face. His cheeks burned slightly as the injuries stretched, but he paid it no mind, careful to keep any outward signs of pain away. Ja’far studied him for a moment, lips pressed together in a pensive frown. Finally, he sat up, wincing slightly as his back emitted an audible crack when he stretched. His hand ran through his disheveled hair before coming to a rest on his neck, fingers digging deeply into the muscles to relieve their stiffness. “That’s what you get for sleeping hunched over like that. Try a bed next time.” Those black eyes glared at him, ignoring the amusement dancing across Sin’s face.

“Oh that’s funny coming from you. How many times have I caught you asleep at your desk?” Sin pouted, finding he couldn’t actually argue against that. He did have a nasty habit of passing out at his desk without warning, documents only halfway finished. Ja’far sighed, trying to fight the smile that was trying to appear. Sin was such a child sometimes. Continuing his scan of the man, he paused at the bandages that wrapped tightly around Sin’s cheeks and poked out from underneath the blankets. Blood spotted the white wrappings in places, the scarlet vibrant against the pale cloth. The king was still ashen, his normally tanned skin maintaining that chalky complexion that his chief general couldn’t help but despise. And though he was trying desperately to hide it, Ja’far was able to catch the subtle traces of pain along the line of his jaw and the twitch of his eyebrow. “How are you feeling?”

Sinbad grew serious, a slight frown curving his mouth. Ja’far already knew how he was feeling; he always did. After all, he’d never been able to hide anything from his overly observant advisor. Something was wrong. “I could ask you the same question, Ja’far…” The younger man froze, his gaze quickly dropping to their intertwined hands. Sin sighed, combing his hand quickly through his thick locks of hair. “Tell me what happened.”

“Are you telling me you forgot?”

“A few of the ending details are hazy, but I know the gist of it. But don’t avoid my question, Ja’far. Something happened after I passed out and I want to know what it was.” Sin’s voice was stern, but tempered with a heavy concern. He paused, his eyes trained on his advisor who was still quite plainly avoiding his gaze. “It takes quite a bit to make you dress like that, Ja’far.” Ja’far’s free hand came up to clasp at the ripped bandages that were draped over his shoulders, his grip tight around the frail material. But still, he was silent. “You know I don’t like it when you’re like this, all quiet and brooding. Talk to me, Ja’far.” Sin stroked at the back of Ja’far’s hand with his thumb. “Please.”

“…I lost control again…” Ja’far murmured, his voice trembling. “I thought I finally had a handle on it…It’s been so long…that I thought I was finally free of this, this anger, this hate.” With a harsh yank, he tore the bandages from his neck, staring blankly at the cloth now pooled in his palm. His dark eyes were shadowed with a deep pain, glistening with a faint film of tears. “I thought I lost you this time, Sin. I thought I was too late and before I could stop it, my anger took over…” He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, a tear trickling out from behind the closed eyelid. Sin squeezed his hand comfortingly, his gaze sad.

“How many this time?” Ja’far choked out a laugh, the sound colored with self-loathing.

“Just one: the assassin girl. I relieved her of her head.”

“Ja’far…”

“I hate this, Sin…I hate all of this killing. And I don’t even know how to make it stop! Every time I try…it just doesn’t work. I don’t know what to do anymore…” His eyes scrunched tightly shut, tears cascaded down pale cheeks. The hand grasping at the bandages rose, still fisted, and pressed against his temple. “I just want to make this stop…”

Tears burning at his own eyes, Sin pulled Ja’far forward by his hand. The younger man yelped, silenced suddenly by the pair of lips pressed lightly against his own. His eyes flew open, thoroughly startled by the feeling of the soft mouth on his. But he found he really couldn’t complain. When they parted, molten gold gazed deep into his onyx eyes. “You’re not alone, Ja’far. Not anymore. I want to help you. Even if that just means staying by your side. I’ll do anything.” The sincerity in Sin’s words stabbed deeply into Ja’far’s heart, water flowing anew from his eyes. Releasing the advisor’s hand, Sin pressed his calloused palm against the man’s face. “Please, Ja’far. Let me help you.”

Eyes slipping shut, Ja’far nodded against Sin’s hand. “Ok,” he whispered, a little hoarse. Studying the younger man for a moment, Sin finally nodded in response.

“Ok.”

Someone cleared their throat, Ja’far practically leaping off of Sin at the noise. In the doorway stood Yamraiha, sporting a knowing smile and clutching a fresh set of bandages and a bowl of water in her hands. Behind her, Masrur lurked, his face as impassive as it always appeared. Though Sin was able to catch the glimmer of amusement that danced in his eyes. The chief general sniffed, quickly wiping at his damp face before anyone could notice. The two entered the room quietly, leaving the door open so others may enter if they so pleased.

“I’m glad to see that you’re awake, your Majesty,” Yam said, setting her burden on the bedside stand. “We’ve all been very worried since you fell victim to that assassin. Some of us more so than others.” At that, she glanced meaningfully at Ja’far, who obstinately refused to look at her. “It was fortunate that Ja’far was able to get to you before she completed the job.” Sin blinked at that, his gaze flicking over to where his advisor sat. Ja’far’s cheeks had reddened slightly, his freckles beginning to disappear in the flush.

“Speaking of… Ja’far, just how did you know that she was trying to kill me?” That flush intensified, travelling up his face to contrast with the pale hair that fell into his eyes. A lazy smirk slipped over Sin’s lips, his gold eyes glinting dangerously. “Well, Ja’far?” The younger man mumbled something, the words barely audible and indecipherable. “I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

“I was checking up on you to make sure she didn’t try anything!” he blurted, his face practically glowing. Sin’s smirk only widened.

“Do you do this with all of my dates?”

“Yes, because frankly I don’t trust any of them!”

“Are you sure you’re not just jealous of them?”

“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!”

“Hm, I guess that answers that.” Ja’far stood suddenly, an enraged yell tearing from his mouth. He stormed off towards the back of the room, his teeth clenched in anger. Sin chuckled quietly, pleased at the direction this conversation had taken. He much preferred a pissed Ja’far over the brooding one he’d awoken to. Yam only smiled beside him, watching in amusement as the argument unfolded. Still at the door, Masrur shook his head, used to these antics. Freezing suddenly, Ja’far turned, a thin smile stretching across his face. Sin’s smirk melted off his features, his eyes widening at his advisor’s expression. Nothing good ever came from that look.

“Regardless of my own feelings, Lord Sin,” Ja’far began. Sin felt dread beginning to grow inside him. Ja’far had used his title; that was never a good sign. “I have warned you that your promiscuity would lead to trouble one of these days. It appears that I was right, as usual. Now I have a proposal: any of your future bedmates must be tested thoroughly by either me or one of the other generals before they are permitted into your chambers.” Sin gaped wordlessly, startled into silence by his advisor’s suggestion. Yam sighed, working at rerolling the bandages that had unraveled during her travelling.

“I must say I agree with Ja’far, your Majesty. You were seriously injured and something like that can’t be taken lightly. We might not make it next time,” she agreed, not even bothering to look up at the man she was stabbing in the back. Sinbad sputtered at her, his eyes shooting over to Masrur, practically begging the man to back him up.

“I agree,” he intoned, meeting his king’s eyes as he spoke. Traitors, all of them. Ja’far looked smug, a self-assured grin curving his lips and his eyelids lowered. His arms were crossed over his chest, a finger tapping at his bicep. Sin glanced at all of them, practically seeing his life dissipating. Betrayed by the very people he trusted, how very typical of his life.

“Ah, the other generals! This has to go to a full vote!” Sin demanded, attempting to keep the desperation from his voice. Surely someone would back him up. Sharrkan would definitely vote to aid the king in this one matter! Ja’far shrugged, still looking far too smug for Sin’s liking.

“If you wish it. We shall assemble later today to vote on this.”

Much to Sin’s dismay, it was decided, almost unanimously, that any of Sin’s prospective lovers had to be screened thoroughly by his chief general before any lovemaking could take place.

Needless to say that put a damper on Sin’s social life.

Those bastards.


End file.
